Redemption
by EE's Skysong
Summary: Some people spend their whole lives looking for it, and others think it's a synonym for revenge. The story of Princess Ursa, her banishment, her life, and the three murderers who loved her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: "A wise girl listens but never believes, kisses but doesn't fall in love, and leaves before she is left."

(An: This is not a happy fic. There is lots of character death and angst in general. What Ursa does in this fic is purely my theory, and it's not really one I support, either.)

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Ursa. One day, she would be known as Princess Ursa, then as a traitor, and eventually she would just be Ursa again. But when we begin, she was just Ursa, daughter of Tyrus and Lena. Her family was ancient, part of the nobility as far back as records went. Ursa was never really aware of that, though.

At least, not until the prince started noticing her.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa met Ozai when she was thirteen and he was almost twenty. She had seen both princes in passing, of course, but she was formerly introduced at thirteen.

Her mother had been so excited when Ursa's name had finally appeared on an invitation to a ball. She remembered her mother fussing over her hair and dress. "You look lovely, Ursa. You have to. Today you're meeting the Fire Lord and his sons!"

To Ursa, still mostly a child, that sounded terribly exciting. She had listened with wide eyes to her mother's descriptions of the balls at the palace, and now she could finally go herself.

Her mother gently stroked her hair, careful not to muss it. "Perhaps one of his sons will even take a liking to you, dear. You could be a princess someday. Probably not Fire Lady. Iroh's much older than you, and he'll never settle down."

Later, Ursa would recall that and realize with some horror how much Ozai reminded her of her mother.

O-o-O-o-O

The ball was all she had hoped for. She, of course, was only one of many girls her age being introduced to the Fire Lord and his court, but she still felt a swell of pride when her name was called. She tipped a curtsy to Fire Lord Azulon, who did nothing, Lady Leila, who responded with a hint of a smile, Iroh, who laughed and jabbed his friend in the ribs, and then to Ozai, who also responded with a smile, and it was wider. If his was a bit more calculating than his mother's, Ursa was too dazzled by his attention to notice. She would later laugh over it with her friends, although that smile remained in her heart like a flower that hadn't quite had time to bloom.

O-o-O-o-O

Many balls followed, and many suitors, even though she was young to be courted. Ursa was not shy around men, but she wasn't flirtatious. She had two older brothers, so boys were ordinary parts of life to her. She was vaguely aware that they were trying to please her for far different reasons than her brothers, but none of their smiles quite called to her like Ozai's had. He was handsome, after all, and he smiled so rarely, which meant that it must have meant a great deal for him to spare one on her.

Besides, what little girl never wished a prince would sweep her off her feet?

Part of her knew it was a silly daydream and that she should have been assessing her suitors, trying to choose one that would please her parents. But she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. So she found herself gathering friends instead of marriage proposals, and unlike her friends, she didn't get flustered and giggly whenever someone asked her to dance.

Well, not until Ozai.

Ursa spent a lot of her time at those balls watching him (discreetly, or at least so she thought), and she had learned quite a bit about the prince. Like his brother, he was very attractive, but, as far as Ursa could tell, the similarities stopped there. Iroh was fond of wine and women (no one was quite sure who the mother of his infant son, Lu Ten, was, and Iroh was very tight-lipped about it). His good cheer and love for life sparkled in his eyes and his laughter. He could start a conversation with anyone and find the humor in anything.

Ozai was reserved, but certainly not shy. He did everything with intense seriousness, and if he had any sense of humor, it was very dry. Disciplined and aloof, he associated with only the nobility. But to her, he seemed terribly sophisticated and mysterious.

In other words, he certainly wasn't a prince from a fairy tale. But Ursa was young enough to believe that appearances could make up for faults, and before she could believe otherwise, she discovered a strange kindness and romanticism in him, and again, she was too young to know how easily those things could be faked.

And it all started with that one dance.

When someone tapped her on the shoulder, she expected it was another ridiculous young man forced upon her by his parents. She stifled a gasp when she saw who it really was.

The prince bowed and offered her his arm. "If I may, Lady Ursa?"

Fiercely aware of the heat in her cheeks and her friends' giggling behind her, Ursa nodded and accepted his arm, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Of course, your highness."

Ozai smiled at her, and the flower in her heart burst into bloom. _It was cool in here a moment ago,_ she thought. _Why am I so hot now?_ If he noticed how flustered she was, he was polite enough not to mention it. When she could breathe properly again, she looked up into his face. It was a slow, stately dance, one she knew well, so she didn't stumble or hesitate as she asked, "Your highness, why me?"

"Prince Ozai, please," he murmured. She was so close to him she could feel his voice rumble in his chest, and she shivered. He waited a moment, twirling her out and pulling her close again, and answered when they were just moving in time to the music again. "Your parents are old friends of my parents. It seemed only polite. Besides..." Here, his hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek, gently brushing it, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You are quite lovely."

Ursa blushed again, wondering that she didn't burst into flame this time.

O-o-O-o-O

There were many dances after that, but they all blurred together. Each time he kissed her, though, stood out bright and clear in her mind, even years later.

Most of the Fire Nation nobility ignored the old customs of propriety and chaperoning; they pretended to obey them, but no one objected when two young ones snuck off alone, and certainly nobody had raised eyebrows at Iroh's illegitimate son.

The first was during a ball. She was fourteen now and had ceased to humor anyone else who asked to dance with her. He only danced with others when it was their gathering. He simply didn't let go of her when the song stopped, pulling her out into the hall where there were fewer eyes. It was only a chaste, hurried one, but it kept her smiling throughout the rest of the week.

O-o-O-o-O

The only time she ever doubted him was during a fight between him and his brother.

It was for show only. The princes would duel each year on Iroh's birthday as a formality. Ozai was to always let him win to show that he accepted his brother's authority as future Fire Lord.

Only, that year, on Iroh's twenty-seventh, she had an idea that Ozai was paying no attention to that rule at all. Her brothers also followed this custom, and they treated it as a game. Neither of them were firebenders, but the weapons that they used never came close to doing harm. Ozai and Iroh fought with flame, and it seemed that Ozai had nothing but harm on his mind. He came close to actually striking his brother with a fiery fist, and she remembered, _He really intends to hurt him!_ But Iroh dodged and eventually pinned his brother, who smiled and bowed.

But for once, the veil of love allowed Ursa to see that the smile did not reach Ozai's eyes.

That worried her, but he could be achingly sweet at times- taking her outside to show her cherry blossoms and twining them in her hair, telling her poetry, bearing all of her questions and sorrows with patience that was so lacking in later years.

O-o-O-o-O

She was fifteen when Iroh was the one to take her beneath the cherry blossoms instead of Ozai. It was chance, only; they were both on their way to meet him, and Iroh had commented on something and made her laugh. They were passing through a courtyard when it suddenly started to rain. Iroh dragged her underneath the spotty protection of the canopy, laughing. She leaned against the trunk and watched him with some amusement. She didn't know the elder brother as well as the younger, but he was silly and friendly, and it was almost impossible to feel awkward around him. "You're drunk," she accused, poking his shoulder.

Iroh laughed harder. "Just a little."

"I doubt Ozai will be pleased."

Iroh flapped a hand at her. "That stick in the mud! I don't care! He doesn't like me anyway!" He looked at her with a half-serious, half-sarcastic expression and leaned in, as if to relay some grave secret. "He intends to marry you, you know, once you come of age."

Ursa flushed, although it was nothing she wasn't expecting. Ozai wasn't the type to toy with a woman unless he had marriage in mind; it just wasn't his way. "And I suppose you'll stay a bachelor forever?"

Iroh snorted. "Probably." He sighed, stroking his sideburns. "I would have made an honest woman of Lu Ten's mother, but she died having him. Ah, she was almost as lovely as you."

Ursa put her hands on her hips and glared at him, but Iroh just laughed again. "Permit an old man his jokes, my dear... she was thrice as lovely as you."

She exhaled in disgust, but she was laughing too.

When a breeze knocked one of the flowers loose, Iroh tucked it behind her ear. She couldn't tell if his graveness was from honest emotion or just a drunk trying to focus. A single, confused half-thought occurred to her- _If it had been him who asked me to dance-_ but she banished it. There was no point wondering on what-ifs and might-have-beens.

She would remember that thought later, and she would weep.

O-o-O-o-O

Iroh's prediction came true. The day after she turned sixteen, Ozai approached her father. Ursa was not surprised when she was officially announced his fiancée, although she once again found herself smiling and couldn't stop.

O-o-O-o-O

Ozai was not cruel- not to her, at least. He knew she only had the vaguest idea of what she was supposed to do on their wedding night. Such patience had to be born of love! And she, unlike so many other young girls before her, did not go to sleep unfulfilled.

Their firstborn was conceived sometime soon after that. Ursa was very excited, but Ozai had only smiled thinly and nodded; all was well, but it was nothing really new.

It was probably because he had no younger siblings. Ursa had three little sisters, and some of her fondest memories of her mother were leaning against her and feeling new life there.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa could not say when she had started to mistrust Ozai or when the doubts truly began to creep into her heart, although it probably started with Zuko's birth. He was born two months too early after a long, hard labor that left Ursa weak and delirious. Zuko did not cry when he was born. Ursa almost thought when the midwife held him up that he had been stillborn, but no, he was just ill, and so small!

When Ozai came to see his son, the midwife barred his entrance, saying that both mother and child needed their rest. "Anyway," she had added, not bothering to whisper, "I don't think the boy will survive the day. I have doubts about the mother, as well, although she's less likely."

Ursa, though in the throes of a fever, heard the woman very well; she only wished that she could have seen Ozai's face. She wished it would have been grief-stricken... but later she would realize it was probably just a derisive sneer. If there was one thing Prince Ozai could not abide, it was weakness.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa adored Zuko. She wasn't allowed to hold him or touch him during his first few weeks of life- he was fragile, and his breathing was like listening to an old man- but oh, she loved him. He was her son, and that was that. She would sit beside his cradle and hum all the songs her mother had sang to her, smiling.

When she discovered that Ozai hadn't named the child, she immediately did so herself, calling him after her eldest brother. Holding Zuko, she approached her husband about two days later. She approached cautiously, feeling timid around her husband for the first time in ages. "Ozai?" she murmured. "You never came to visit."

Ozai looked at her and smiled slowly, as though it were an effort. "I know, my dear. The midwife wouldn't allow me inside. And she told me that he-" Ozai gestured at the baby, and Ursa, for the first and only time, interrupted her husband.

"Zuko," she insisted.

Ozai's eyes flashed, full of something unpleasant, but he said, in a tone that suggested it was a great personal sacrifice on her behalf, "_Zuko_ only had a few hours, maybe a day, to live. I didn't want to meet him only to lose him, you see?"

Placated somewhat, Ursa nodded. "I understand. Will you meet him now?"

Gingerly, Ozai accepted the baby, Ursa adjusting his arms so he was holding Zuko properly almost without thought. "He's small," Ozai murmured with what might have been affection.

Ursa nodded. "He was early."

Ozai did not respond, looking down at his son, his eyes hooded and his face a purposeful blank. But Ursa saw no malice in that expression, even later, when she scrutinized her memory. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they had peace for a little longer.

O-o-O-o-O

Almost two years later to the day, Azula came into the world. She was a perfect contrast to her brother- her labor was only a few hours, right when the healers predicted, and she was normal size and weight.

The only similarity was that neither of them cried at birth. As her husband would later say, Zuko did not because he was weak, and Azula did not because she was strong. Instead, her newborn daughter regarded the world with clear eyes the color of hot copper, much like her father's.

Zuko was at first fascinated by his sister; he was two, after all, and curious about everything. And his sister wasn't a whit like the other babies he'd seen. She didn't squall when disturbed from her sleep, and she would fuss only when she wanted to be fed or changed. Zuko had eyed his sister initially with interest and then, as she continued to behave so strangely, with concern. "Is there something wrong with her, Mother?" he asked, holding her hand and looking up at her, his golden eyes wide.

Ursa smiled and stroked his hair (he was still too young to wear it in a ponytail). "No, dear. I think your sister's just… different."

She picked up Azula and held her level with her brother, and the two siblings regarded each other with the total solemnity only young children can manage. Azula's infancy was the only time Ursa ever saw them getting along.

O-o-O-o-O

The years passed, and time went on. We'll not linger long here, for the tale's been told many a time. There are so many examples I could give of Ozai and Ursa, of her love, of his distance.

But we'll let one stand for them all, since it was the one Ursa would always remember as the day she finally questioned her choices, especially one cold night when she left the life she knew behind her.

Ursa was not a blind woman, nor was she foolish, but she loved strongly. Even Azula, who was so strange and cruel and so much like her father (and oh, how she would rue that thought!), was dear to her, in part because of her placid infancy; until she was about five, she allowed her mother to choose her outfits and dress her and brush her hair, and she would smile and laugh, and she was impossible not to adore, for Azula could be charming and kind and sweet when she wished.

But when she got older, Ursa drew back, simply because she didn't understand her daughter. Zuko adored his mother and would show her through the usual ways- flowers, a painting, clumsy but loving gifts. Azula loved her mother, too, but she was very different from Ursa. She would firebend for her and recite endless lists of battles won against the Earth Kingdom, things that pleased her father.

And they pleased Ursa as well, but they also confused her, for she and her mother were simply very different. Azula had no interest in the graces of court; she knew how to treat her friends, of course, and those in power, but she had no use for fancy dresses and balls and endless parties. She knew how to control others instinctively and couldn't care less about what etiquette demanded.

Ursa liked and respected her daughter's interests, but she didn't know how to show it. With Zuko, she could give him a book of poems and show him one she had liked, and he would understand it and undoubtedly enjoy it as well. She could show him how to make paper lanterns or the beauty of sunlight reflections on water and cherry trees in spring.

But unless the poem was about war, it wouldn't interest Azula, and to her, paper was only good for burning or writing, water was for drinking, and cherry trees were absolutely useless. Azula was nothing if not practical; even her choice of friends showed that, for she was not a social person (although undeniably cunning and good with people) and only associated with those who were useful to her.

So Ursa, flustered, would give her daughter a doll, even though she knew how she loathed them, or a dress, even though her daughter wore pants since the age of six.

And one day, she overheard Azula talking to her father about it after her eighthbirthday.

"It bothers me, Father," Azula mumbled, sounding close to tears. That was why Ursa had stopped and not gone into her bedroom; she had never heard her daughter so. "She always knows just what _Zuko_ wants! It's not that he pretends to like his presents, he does! And she knows how much I hate these things! I've told her, and she says so! Does she hate me, Father?"

Ozai, in a soft tone Ursa hadn't heard him use in years, probably since before Azula was born, murmured, "Of course not, Azula. Your mother is simply not like us. She means well, but she is soft."

"She's weak."

Ozai laughed. "Exactly, my dear, my Azula."

"Then why did you marry her, Father?"

Ozai didn't answer for a long moment. "Perhaps I was weak as well back then. But I've gotten over it."

Ursa knew that her daughter and her husband kept talking, but she didn't hear it. She put her hands over her mouth to stifle her sobs, although, as usual, she was not really surprised by her husband. Most of her had known for years, but actually hearing it from Ozai brought it home: she was trapped by a man she couldn't trust.

And all she wanted to do was take her son and run.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa never spoke to her husband about that day. She wasn't a good actress, but if he noticed her distance (and she doubted that), he didn't comment. He wasn't interested.

Ursa thought she could tolerate it all until that meeting with Azulon. She had always known her husband was ambitious and disgusted by his brother and his ways, but she had never expected Ozai to actually _do_ anything about it.

At first, she thought the meeting was nothing out of the ordinary; Ozai simply loved to show Azula off. But she was curious, so, like her children, she stayed back and eavesdropped.

Azula had only been kidding about making Ozai kill Zuko; the Fire Lord knew it would bother his son not a whit. No, Azulon's punishment was much quicker; he simply struck Ozai down, and it was all Ursa could do to keep from crying out. Cruel or not, Ozai was family, and Ursa hated to see him in pain. She dashed away before she could be caught spying and managed to act surprised when Ozai appeared with a terrible scar covering part of his face.

O-o-O-o-O

The first and only time Ozai surprised her was when he hired the assassin. _You're becoming quite the little spy, Ursa,_ a nasty voice whispered when she lingered outside her husband's rooms to overhear his conversation, hushed though it was. And it had good reason to be hushed; Ozai was planning his father's murder.

Poison, slipped in his soup. A bribe to the courtiers, and Azulon's last wish would be to make his younger son Fire Lord.

Ursa had never really been a decisive woman, but she knew her husband would ruin the world (what was left of it, anyway) as Fire Lord. She had to stop it.

It didn't work. Ursa knew how to wield a knife, but in the end, she couldn't do it. A stumble over the hem of her dress, and a harsh look from the courtier, and Ursa was at Azulon's feet, holding a dagger.

The Fire Lord, his face wreathed in shadow, sighed. "Princess Ursa, if you stay, I shall have to consider this an attempt on my life."

All thoughts of the poison fled; Azulon had never spoken to her directly before, and he terrified her. Ursa fled. She shook Zuko awake, holding her son for the last time, and left the castle by cover of darkness.

A month and a series of ships, aliases, and disguises later, and Ursa found herself in the Earth Kingdom. She had been a princess, and now she was technically a traitor, but she quite liked being just Ursa.

Fairy tales had never really suited her, anyway.

(Ok, yeah, that part was kind of… weird… but that's because I'm really not interested in Ursa's past in the Fire Nation. The second part incorporates the Freedom Fighters! Review!)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: "Don't you want to spread your wings and flap your way to glory?" "No!"

(An: And now the Freedom Fighters show up. This whole bit was sort of inspired by a fic by Cartoongirl on deviantArt. I know that Longshot has brown eyes, and that some of the Earth Kingdom probably has gray eyes (the Foggy Swamp tribe does, but I don't know if they count). Bear with me here. I wanted _something_ to jar Ursa's memories.)

When the Freedom Fighters first came across Ursa, they figured she had to be crazy. Nice, but crazy. What sane woman would run onto the second floor of a burning building?

They knew there was a kid stuck up there, but there was nothing anyone could do- the lower level was already on fire, and since the kid hadn't ran outside, the stairs were probably on fire as well.

And then a crazy woman in a long cape- a cape, for spirits's sake, and she was going to run into a burning building- dashed out of the crowd when she saw the pale face at the window. The boy inside was probably eleven or twelve, and he was eyeing the drop. "Don't jump!" the woman cried. "I'll help you!" She glanced around, grabbed a bucket of water from one of the Freedom Fighters, and dumped it over her cloak, reversing it so she could cover her face with the hood.

Jet grabbed her arm. He wasn't much older than the boy, but it was a bad situation. He hadn't let any of his people attempt it, and he certainly wasn't going to allow a civilian. "Lady, don't-"

But the woman had just shook off his hold and smiled at him. "Don't worry about me. I'm experienced with fire."

Jet was too busy trying to puzzle out the rueful edge to the lady's smile to try to stop her again, and anyway, she was fast. He realized she was probably younger than he'd guessed. Not even thirty. He got his sense back when she ran through the door, but by then it was too late.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa ran up the steps. Her cloak didn't keep off the heat, and it was already starting to dry, but it was better than nothing. The stairs were weak and groaned with her weight, but they weren't burning yet. She wasted a moment in wondering why the boy hadn't run down them before coming to the top floor. She glanced around and found a door with a chair against the handle. The boy was trapped. She knocked the chair aside and made herself hesitate long enough to feel the wood. It wasn't warm, so it was safe. Relatively, anyway.

Ursa wasted another moment with a thought- _I believe I've gone mad_- and then she shoved open the door. Her eyes instantly began to water and sting; the room was full of smoke. The boy's arms were horribly burned, but she barely noticed that; she grabbed him around the waist. The only thing she really noticed- the thing that had made her risk her life for him- was that the boy was Zuko's age, and almost exactly his height. It wasn't her son up there, but it was someone else's, and she wasn't going to let _anyone's_ child burn.

The stairs were burning now; she risked a few moments to yank up her skirts so they wouldn't catch and gather the boy up bridal fashion, and then she slid down the banister, landing with an ungraceful thud on the floor.

The boy who had tried to stop her was waiting near the door when she ran out, and he took the burned child from her. He shoved her into a sitting position and handed her a flask of something that smelled _terrible._ "Drink it," the boy urged, "or the smoke will ruin your lungs."

Ursa, not allowing herself to think about it (funny how it was harder to take medicine than to run into a burning building), took a long swallow. Immediately she started coughing, spitting up gray mucus.

The boy ignored her, already making the boy- barely conscious- drink the stuff.

Ursa, calming now that the danger was over, finally got a good look at the child she'd risked her life for. He was skinny and pale, making the burns on his arms even more prominent. He was clutching a quiver and a shortbow, and only after the older boy assured him that he couldn't stop the ouch if he was holding something would he release them. What really held her attention, though, were his eyes- gray ones that seemed to stare straight through her.

"My name's Jet," said the older boy, clearly used to dealing with survivors. He finished rubbing some salve on the boy's wounds and started bandaging them. "What's yours?"

The younger boy attempted speaking and only managed a croak that dissolved into coughing.

Jet clapped him on the back. "You probably won't be able to talk for a while, and you'll be stiff, trust me, but you'll be ok." He seemed to be assuring himself of this as well as the other boy, and he turned to Ursa. He inhaled sharply, and only then did Ursa notice the welts cropping up on her hands and the burns on her feet. "I have to ask, ma'am- are you insane?" Despite his skeptical tone, he handed her the salve and helped her apply it.

"I was wondering the same thing, actually."

Jet paused, and then he grinned. He was handsome, if a little scrawny for his age. "So what's your name, ma'am?" She supposed he was calling her that now because she'd earned his respect.

"Ursa. Do you go around doing good deeds, Jet?" She was more interested in her question than the burned boy's widening eyes.

Jet's grin widened. "You could say that." He put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. The burned boy winced and covered his ears with hands that were somehow unmarked. Ursa wished she could do the same, but her hands had noticed they were injured and smarted terribly.

The teens working on putting out the house paused to bow, and a ragtag cadre of younger children melted out of the alleys and appeared on rooftops. Jet gestured at them, and Ursa had to work not to laugh at his expression- it was that of a proud father showing off his firstborn. "These are my Freedom Fighters. We go around messing up the Fire Nation's plans whenever we can." Ursa winced at the mention and was glad she could blame it on her hands.

But why was she even worrying about it? She was a traitor now, after all, and if you were going to betray your country, you might as well be wholehearted about it. (If she had been more attentive, though, she would have noticed she had stopped thinking of it as her nation the moment she'd set foot on Earth Kingdom soil.)

Jet turned to the burned child. "Can I call you Longshot?"

The boy shrugged without looking at Jet; he was inspecting his bow for cracks. The string had burned, but it seemed to be in fine condition otherwise.

"I guess your parents must have done something to piss off those soldiers," Jet commented. Longshot looked at him sharply, and Jet held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to ask about it, I'm just saying. If you want, you can join us. You don't have to help us fight-" Longshot grabbed his shoulder at that, and Jet grinned. "Oh, good. I was hoping you'd say yes. We could use someone who can fight at a distance."

Longshot didn't grin back, but his grave expression lightened somewhat.

Jet got up, brushed the dirt from his knees, and helped Longshot to his feet before turning back to Ursa. He put his hands behind his head and rocked back and forth on his heels. His uncertainty made him look like the child he was. "Um… ma'am-"

"Just Ursa, dear."

"_Ursa,_" Jet nodded. "Can you cook?"

Ursa blinked, rather surprised at the question. "Um… a bit, I suppose." She didn't think it would be prudent to mention that most of her knowledge came from trial and error. A nobleman's daughter learned little about making food, but traveling on her own had been a good crash course, she supposed.

"A bit's better than nothing. We kinda picked up more than we could handle, and everyone's getting sick of wanderer's stew." When Ursa frowned, Jet added, "Basically, whatever we catch dumped in one pot and reheated until we can't tell what it is."

Ursa nodded; she'd had quite a bit of that herself.

Jet rubbed his neck. "So, um… would you like to come with us? Because, no offense or anything, but it doesn't really look like you've got anywhere better to go."

Ursa smiled. "Of course I would."

The boy grinned, and again Ursa thought how handsome he was, although he didn't seem to notice. He wasn't going to have any trouble finding a wife. Her smile faltered a bit, but Jet didn't notice.

"You won't _believe_ where we live," he was saying, and Ursa was unsure if he was speaking to her or Longshot. "It's amazing."

O-o-O-o-O

It was a while back to Jet's home. Ursa spent the trip with the burned child, Longshot. She felt responsible for him since she had rescued him, and anyway, she missed Zuko dearly. Longshot reminded her very much of her estranged son. As soon as they set out, Longshot had bothered a replacement bowstring out of someone and began to oil it, tending to his bow.

Ursa watched him curiously. No one in the Fire Nation used shortbows- they all used longbows, like the Yu Yan. "Did your father give that to you?" she asked. He gave her the same sharp look he had Jet, but Ursa just smiled mildly. "I just thought it must be very important to you, the way you cling to it."

He nodded. Quietly (and rather hoarsely), he murmured, "I never had a father." He glanced at her again. This time, though, he looked rather shy, and Ursa thought that shyness was probably the truth of him. "Never a mother, either."

Ursa smiled at him and put an arm around his thin shoulders (much _too_ thin- she doubted he'd been living in that town for long). "That's too bad, dear…" She sighed, turning her face to the sky, suddenly feeling guilty. Zuko was undoubtedly heartbroken. Was she only being kind to this boy because she wanted to allay that guilt?

Then Longshot squeezed her fingers. "Is your son without a mother, too?"

Ursa looked down at him, her eyes wide. Then she smiled again, only now it was the rueful one she'd shown Jet. "Yes. I had to leave him. I couldn't stay where I was, and I couldn't take him with me."

Longshot looked at his feet, leaving dusty tracks in the dirt. "That's too bad."

"I think it'll be all right." Longshot looked up at her. Ursa's normal smile had reappeared.

O-o-O-o-O

Jet hadn't been exaggerating. The houses in the trees looked like they should have fallen apart long ago, and the bridges made her incredibly nervous, but all of the children seemed perfectly at home there. The only ones that seemed over sixteen were a giant named Pipsqueak and a sullen boy called Sneers. Even though Jet was about in the middle agewise, all the rest clearly deferred to him, and it was obvious he was an adored leader as well as a respected one.

Ursa was immediately led to a kitchen that was as threadbare as the rest of the place but still quite workable. She was also given an assistant who called herself Skillet. "Does anyone around here go by their actual name?" Ursa murmured. It was just an idle wondering, but Skillet answered.

"Jet gives us all nicknames. To initiate us into the group, like." She grinned up at Ursa, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Ursa decided to start cooking before she could start to mistrust Jet. Not all handsome men were like her husband, after all, and Jet seemed trustworthy.

Later, when fleeing the nearby city from an oncoming flood, she would rue that thought.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa refused to fight or help them prepare for battle- she had only been a traitor for a few months, so she figured it was best to take it slow- but she became a surrogate mother to the ones who were still young enough to admit they missed theirs.

To Ursa, who had found it hardest leaving her son and daughter, it was a wonderful gift, to have all those young ones adore her. Only the very youngest called her "Mama" instead of by name, but it came out to the same thing, didn't it?

But the only one she viewed as a son instead of an extended family (like a giant collection of nieces and nephews, if you will) was the burned child, Longshot. She did her best not to single him out- he was easily embarrassed- but she loved him all the same. It was partially because he was the same age as her son, and, except for the eyes, they looked very much alike. Especially in their demeanor- always so stoic and determined to be the best.

He was different than Zuko, though, and Ursa loved him for it. Unlike Zuko, Longshot had a sense of humor, although it was rather dry. And the seed of empathy she'd tried to water in her son was a bright flower in him; he was good with newcomers not because he would console them, but because he would listen.

And he treated her like a mother, although, on the rare occasions he spoke, he was careful to refer to her as Ursa. She'd wake up and find dried flowers on her windowsill or the ingredients for sweetbuns laid out on the kitchen counter, expressions of a love he couldn't talk about.

Something about him bothered her, though, as dear as he was. It was mostly those gray eyes. Certainly, she hadn't seen much of the Earth Kingdom, but she hadn't met anyone else with eyes that color. Green and brown in every shade imaginable, yes… but gray was a Fire Nation color.

Then there was the way he would reach for his arrows when startled- with his thumb and forefinger, instead of index and middle. Like he was using a longbow instead of a shortbow, in other words.

But Ursa didn't realize why they bothered her until after she dreamed of Ozai.

O-o-O-o-O

She had been living in the trees about two years, and she would look up every now and then, surprised at how happy she was. Life wasn't easy, but it was fulfilling, and while she missed her own children every day, having such a large adopted family helped. The nightmares had ceased; Ozai only visited her rarely now, usually as an added absurdity to her already strange dreams.

In this dream, though, Azulon and Ozai were sitting side-by-side on the throne. Ursa was in a group of people. Two wore army uniforms, and one was a young boy with the tattoos and facepaint of the Yu Yan. She realized she was in a line of traitors. But then why were Zuko and Iroh beside her?

Azulon shook his head. "So many traitors, Ozai. It's disgusting."

Ozai nodded but said nothing.

"And so many in my own line." Azulon sighed and propped his chin on his fist.

"No fault of yours, father. Betrayal is learned."

"Then you must be an expert, since you were taught by your wife, your brother, and your son."

Ozai again said nothing.

Azulon yawned. "I grow bored with this farce. Send them away."

Ozai stepped off the throne and into a firebending stance, and Ursa jerked awake. She slipped out of bed and winced; the scars on her feet ached. She sighed and walked outside, wondering who Jet had left on watch.

A birdcall that hadn't been made by a bird echoed through the trees- the Freedom Fighter equivalent of "Midnight and all's well!"

A figure dropped out of the canopy. "You're up late," Sneers commented.

"I had a bad dream. I thought the night air would clear my head."

Sneers shrugged, not much for chatter unless it was to pick a fight. He wasn't companionable, so he was here to deliver a message. He looked at the sky, collecting his thoughts. "Jet's planning a breakout."

Ursa frowned. "I-"

"I know, you don't fight. But he asked me to talk to you anyway."

Ursa's frown deepened. This was very strange. Jet almost never sent someone else to speak for him- he was persuasive and charismatic, and he knew it.

At least, he didn't do it if he didn't mind talking about the subject.

Sneers leaned against the balcony. "It's because of the people we're breaking out- _maiko_. Jet figures they'd probably want someone to talk to…" He trailed off, shrugging again.

Now Ursa understood. The core group of Freedom Fighters was totally male. If they were going to rescue girls who had probably spent the last few days being pushed too far, a woman in the ranks would help. She nodded. "I'll do it."

Sneers echoed the nod and disappeared back into the trees.

Ursa yawned and wandered back to her bed. By the time she'd fallen asleep, she'd forgotten the dream.

O-o-O-o-O

Ursa sighed, tying back her hair. Ordinarily, she didn't do anything with it- it reminded her too much of her years at court, and being reminded of the Fire Nation was never a good thing when you lived with a band of rebels. But she had agreed to do this, and she was glad- even when she had been loyal to her country, she had known that Fire Nation soldiers were anything but gentle with their prisoners. She didn't dare think how they'd treat a bunch of frightened young girls.

O-o-O-o-O

Jet had made it very clear that Ursa was to stay out of the fighting- she and the Duke had to find the girls. Longshot was coming along in case there was a guard.

And, of course, there was, and, of course, nothing went as planned.

The Duke, refraining from his usual chatty ways, crept through a window of the base while the rest of the gang raised hell on the other side of the building. Ursa and Longshot slipped through after him. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings, but Ursa put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him left.

"Trust me," she mouthed, taking the lead.

The Duke nodded and followed.

Ursa, remembering the trips to similar bases with Ozai, knew her way around. She forced herself to focus on her mental map instead of remembering how excited Zuko had been whenever they went. She led them to the right place with only a few wrong turns.

There was a guard in front of the entrance to the cell complex. Longshot drew an arrow with a blunted tip ("Kill only if you have to" had not yet been rubbed out of Jet's maxims) when they heard footsteps.

"Changing of the guard!" Ursa hissed.

Longshot ducked the blast of flame, but only just.

Ursa, dragging the Duke behind her, ran to the guard currently on duty. He was trying to draw a heavy, two-handed broadsword from the sheath on his back. Ursa kicked him beneath the knee before he could register her. She pulled the sword out the rest of the way- Agni, it was heavy- and, holding it by the dull section above the handguard, slammed the pommel into the back of his head. The soldier dropped.

Heat flashed by her ear. Longshot was having trouble with the firebender. Which made sense- you had to get close to take one down. Ursa shifted her grip to the hilt- "Hold it tight; let the momentum help you," Ozai murmured in her ear.

She shook her head to banish old ghosts and made herself focus. The broadsword, if held properly, would deflect flame as well as a firebending stance; it was one of the useful things Ozai had taught her.

Longshot fired past her to draw the soldier's attention to her, and Ursa did her best to look intimidating (and not like she could barely hold the weapon). Then the Duke popped out and screamed at the soldier (one of Jet's tricks). Seven-year-olds are good at screaming. The moment the firebender hesitated was enough for Longshot to take him down.

Ursa dropped the sword and hoped all the girls could walk. She didn't think she could carry anyone.

The Duke bent down and took the guard's keyring, looking for the one that would fit the lock.

Ursa rubbed her arms and noticed Longshot was frowning at her. He could talk, but he preferred not to. It wasn't his way. She shrugged and tried to smile. "I never said I couldn't defend myself. I just don't like it when I have to." Longshot's frown deepened, but he still didn't say anything.

The Duke found the right key and shoved open the door. Ursa went through first. The Duke had picked up a dagger from the guard and was nervously shifting it from hand to hand. Longshot appeared lost in thought.

Then, of course, he was tackled by a wild girl in a ripped, dirty kimono. He pushed her away, avoiding her kicks and bites. Softly, in a voice rather hoarse from disuse, he murmured, "Hey, quit that. We're on your side."

The girl glared at him and didn't quit fighting. "If there's one thing we've learned, it's that nobody's on our side," said one of the other girls, huddled against the back wall. Another girl put her arm around the speaker's shoulder and nodded, a show of solidarity.

Ursa sighed and moved to Longshot, carefully taking the girl around the waist. The girl twisted around and gasped when she saw Ursa's face. "Yes, that's right. I'm here to help." The girl glared suspiciously. Likely, the only help she'd had from older women so far was the "mother" of her house. Ursa sighed again, stroking the girl's hair. "Now will you stop being silly and let us help you get out of here?"

The girls looked at each other warily.

"We can help you get back to your city," the Duke offered.

At the mention of this, the girl in Ursa's arms pushed away and knelt on the floor, rubbing at her eyes. "They burned it down," she whispered. "And we ran! Like scared rabbiroos!"

"There was nothing-" one of the older girls began, but the small figure on the floor whirled on her.

"We could have fought! We could have at least _tried_ to save our friends!" the girl shrieked.

"Now that's what I like to hear," said a voice at the door. It was Jet, of course, leaning against the doorframe with a hayseed in his mouth, as nonchalant as if they were taking the girls to a tea service.

The girl on the floor immediately turned on him, but Jet grabbed her before she could. "Hey, hey, I might wanna have children someday. Now come on, we gotta go."

"We're not-" insisted one of the girls, but Jet cut her off.

"This place is gonna explode in about five minutes. Do you really want to be in here?"

That shut them up.

"Would someone please take her?" Ursa looked at Longshot, who rolled his eyes and grabbed the girl, dashing off before she could start to struggle.

"You used blasting jelly and you didn't tell me?" the Duke asked, rushing to keep up on his short legs.

Jet bent so the smaller boy could jump on his back. "I'll be sure to let you take care of it next time, ok, buddy?"

"Awesome!"

Ursa, hurrying the girls ahead of her, brought up the rear as they dashed through the complex. The Duke, who had an uncanny sense of direction, led them out, yelling the turns to Jet.

O-o-O-o-O

After some discussion with the oldest girls, an agreement was finally settled on: since their town had been destroyed, Jet would take them to the city nearest their home in the trees. Jet had protested this because there were a few Fire Nation soldiers occupying that town, but the leader hadn't cared as long as it wasn't ashes.

And after even more debate, Jet wheedled custody of the wild girl from the others. "She's exactly the sort I want, and she'll do you no good if you want to keep away from the soldiers, not with a temper like that."

The girl, referred to by the others as Cricket, had ignored their inquiries and said nothing during the entire discussion. She hadn't protested when Jet said she was coming with them, though.

She was eventually redubbed Smellerbee (by some leap of logic only understandable to thirteen-year-olds, Ursa supposed) and given a set of knives. Her talents with them suggested she'd been a streetrat before a _maiko_. The first thing she'd done with them, though, was cut off the half-peach bun that marked her as a geisha in training.

Ursa was there for none of this, though; while Smellerbee was being shown around her new home, Ursa was finding jobs for the rest of the girls. There weren't many of them, but it took most of the day; people around here were mistrustful, and with good reason. You could never be too careful with the Fire Nation living in your city. Still, the girls were quiet and well-mannered, and no one in the city had too much help to turn then down.

Longshot was waiting for her at the edge of the city. He had come along to buy food; his solemn stare meant he was an excellent haggler, even though he hated talking to strangers. He was staring moodily at the town notice board. He had taken down a recent one to reveal a poster of a Yu Yan beneath it. They were looking for a rogue. The boy in the picture was only a child, though, probably no older than eleven.

Ursa looked from the poster to her adopted son and sighed. "That's you, isn't it?" she murmured, remembering her dream and a conversation she'd once had with Ozai. When she heard about the Yu Yan's escapee, she had immediately sympathized with the boy- alone, scared, and the cold, ruthless Fire Nation archers were after him. Ozai, as though sensing this, had reiterated that the boy was a traitor. Ursa reminded him that the boy was his son's age. Ozai, who always got annoyed whenever Ursa reminded him that Zuko was his heir, had walked away.

Longshot nodded, his face solemn. "That's me, just like this is you." He removed a poster of an earthbender, revealing a drawing of Ursa as she'd looked just after leaving the Fire Nation. That already felt like an eternity before her quiet life in the trees.

She played with her short braid. "That _was_ me, dear. I'm no one but Ursa now."

He nodded again, and neither of them ever spoke of it after that.

O-o-O-o-O

As the years passed, Ursa thought less and less of her old life. She never missed it, and there was little to remind her. Besides, for the first time, she could say she was truly happy with her life. There was pleasure in hard work, and Jet's ragtag band was certainly never boring.

The girl, Smellerbee, was a particularly fun diversion, mostly because, although she did her best to deny her gender, Longshot was all too aware of it. Ursa was still young (barely thirty-three), and they weren't related to her by blood, but if her young archer ever found his courage, Ursa wouldn't have minded grandchildren.

After all, what could disturb their peaceful (well, relatively) life?

O-o-O-o-O

Looking back, Ursa would decide that no one could be blamed for the destruction of the town. She, like the Avatar and his friends, hadn't known the depths of Jet's madness. Only his inner circle had been privy to his plans, and who could blame them? Once you got past the weaponry and cool stares, they were children. Pipsqueak and Smellerbee's loyalty was unshakeable. The Duke was still young enough to believe that older people really did have an idea of what they were doing. Sneers just liked a fight. Longshot alone seemed troubled before the incident, but his heritage meant he was unrelenting in his battle against the Fire Nation.

And certainly, no one could have prevented it, although the waterbender came close (it would take them hours to chip Jet out of the ice). It had simply gotten too far by the time anyone found out about it.

Ursa, at everyone's insistence, had not gone to market that day. At least, not until most of the children had filed out of the trees to do this or that- she knew Jet was up to _something_, but she hadn't asked about what. Even though by now Jet's rule was, "The only good Fire Nation soldier is a dead one."

She would have vouched for the Avatar's friend if she'd been anywhere nearby; she was sorting through peaches when someone had grabbed her arm. "Come on, lady, the dam's gonna blow!" She found herself dragged out of the city. Only when they were outside the walls did the man think to introduce himself, and by then Ursa was too busy watching the city fill up with water.

She realized she'd been spoken to and actually looked at her semi-rescuer, who repeated his name (it was Kero). Ursa stammered her own. He was nothing special, but his eyes were lovely- the exact shade of dawn light filtered through the leaves of the canopy.

At the end of the day, after helping pass out countless blankets and bowls of soup, she returned to the trees, to find her former haven a madhouse. The children who hadn't been informed of the plan- and, before that morning, had all adored Jet- were all arguing and clamoring to talk with Jet, who had apparently disappeared. Smellerbee and Longshot were nowhere to be found either, but the rumor was they were with their incognito leader.

Skillet, who was helping Sneers keep things somewhat under control (and here Ursa had thought hell would freeze over before Sneers was helpful), shrugged and told Ursa, "It's crazy up here now. You should probably go back to the city."

Ursa would have none of it; she helped the older children get things straightened out and kept the younger ones entertained while they waited for Jet to return.

It was nearly midnight when he did. Smellerbee was holding Longshot's hand in a deathhgrip and wouldn't look at anyone. Longshot's gaze dared anyone to make anything of it. Jet came last, looking like he'd just had the shock of his life. His eyes were wide and rather dazed, and while they looked at everyone and everything, he seemed to truly see none of it.

Longshot walked over to Ursa and put his free hand on her shoulder. "Things are going to fall apart now," he said, his voice quiet and impossibly sad. "You should go to the city in the morning."

"What-" Ursa began, but Longshot just shook his head.

O-o-O-o-O

The next morning, Jet, looking tired and very different from the young man who'd left the treehouse the day before, announced that he was leaving, along with anyone who wanted to go with him. At the end of the day, only Smellerbee, who was loyal to him, and Longshot, who was loyal to her, followed.

Ursa ended up taking Longshot's advice and going to live in the town. It was mostly because everyone but the oldest children, who didn't know any other way to live, were leaving for it as well. They tried going on the same way as before, but Jet had been the main thread holding them together, and without him, the Freedom Fighters unraveled. It was rather depressing, but she tried not to think about it too much. Thankfully, rebuilding the city and helping the refugees was hard work that left little time for introspection.

The woman who had once been a princess was now an nondescript citizen. She had no wealth except for the few coins that she had saved and no power except for the sway she held over the children who loved her. If Ozai ever learned of what happened to his former wife, he wouldn't have been surprised; after all, her weakness had crossed over to his son.

But Ursa never thought of that, either. And it wouldn't have bothered her if she had. She, unlike her son, had not spent her whole life in turmoil; what had happened had happened, and she was grateful to end up where she did, where she was actually loved. She had done her best to do right by those she loved, and, for the most part, she felt like she had succeeded.

Ursa, again, unlike her son, knew that redemption is something one gives to herself.

(Skillet, Ursa's helper, is Sylvacoer's OC. The next (and last) chapter is about Zuko, so I don't know how long it'll take me. I don't like writing Zuko. Review! And love to you who already have. You guys are awesome.)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: "Take aim where she falls. Cut off a wolf's head, and it still has the power to bite."

(An: Ok, if you liked the idea that Ursa ended up happy… quit reading now. I considered stopping there because I've really grown to like Ursa… but I've had this ending in mind since I first thought of the fic. I know I said this chapter would be Zuko-centric, but it's really not; he just runs most of the plot. I don't write from his POV very much; I find it really, really hard. This is not a "Zuko sees the light" fic; this is a "Zuko continues making stupid decisions" fic. Also, here there be Longerbee. Ye've been warned. Yarr.)

Deaths never affect just one person; like a stone dropped in a still pond full of leaves, they make ripples that upset everything else. I mention this only because much of this chapter is concerned with death, and I brush over some of the ripples to get to the stone so this story will be a little less long in the tooth.

O-o-O-o-O

Ba Sing Se was confusing. It seemed that everywhere he turned, there was something determined to turn his ideas on their head. Jet had seemed like an all right guy… until they got to Ba Sing Se and he flipped out in the tea shop, that was. Zuko had thought himself untouchable… until he started working at the tea shop and met Jin (why was it that all of the girls he came across had to be so damn _nice, _anyway?). And Zuko had thought Azula always lied… until she took over the city. He never would have thought it possible, but she actually seemed to be sincere.

It was creepy.

The day after Ba Sing Se fell, she called him to the throne room. She was sitting on it, legs crossed. This, at least, was typical Azula behavior- always remind others that they are beneath you. She steepled her fingers and smiled at Zuko above them. "It's almost frightening, Zuko, how quickly you have become integral to my plans."

Ah. So that was what it was about. Azula had a job for him. Zuko crossed his arms and said nothing.

"I want you, Ty Lee, and Mai to find the Avatar's friends." Zuko started. Azula's lips thinned. "I've thought about it, and it's really not wise to let them live. Even without the Avatar, they remain a symbol of rebellion, and the benders are annoyingly powerful. Things aren't yet settled here, so I have to stay behind- most of the people in this city are sheep, but the Dai Li and Long Feng are wolfbats. Someone has to make sure things stay in our favor."

Zuko nodded. "Is that it?" He had decided that, when it came to Azula, distance was probably the best balm for their truce. He may have sided with her- she _was_ family, after all- but that didn't mean he liked or trusted his sister.

Azula inspected her nails- immaculate, as usual. "Of course not, Zuko. That's only the beginning of the plan. When things are settled here- when I'm certain that all hints of insurgence have been crushed- I'll send for you."

"But what if we haven't found the Avatar's companions yet?"

Azula glanced at him. "Then we'll simply leave Ty Lee and Mai on the scent," she said, sounding rather annoyed. Not because of the question, but because she was aggravated that he thought her forgiveness was conditional? Perhaps. You never could tell with her. "I trust that you'll be able to find them quickly anyway." She steepled her fingers again. "When you come back, I am going to the Fire Nation to acquire further orders from Father." Zuko opened his mouth, but Azula held up her hands. "I want you here to take care of things. I want you to prove to Father how well you can dominate these people… I want you to prove it to me." She got off the throne and put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "You and I, Zuko… we shall crush the last vestiges of the Earth Kingdom."

Zuko inclined his head; he wasn't about to bow to his own sister.

"Oh, and Zuko…" Azula called as he turned to leave. "I know that your decision troubles you. You made the right choice." She smiled at him again. It made his flesh creep.

"Azula always lies," his younger self sighed in his ear.

Zuko shook himself. Jet would have seen the resemblance at once.

O-o-O-o-O

They moved out quickly, but after that, the days passed slowly. By the fourth day after the coup, Ba Sing Se was behind them. Zuko's doubts were not.

At least following the Avatar was easy; a flying bison wasn't exactly inconspicuous, and it was amazing what most people would tell Zuko when he raised the temperature a bit. Dealing with the girls wasn't. Ty Lee drove him crazy- she never shut up, and unlike Mai, Zuko didn't have endless patience from years of pinkness. Mai was also aggravating; she only spoke to him when she had to and then only grudgingly.

It was fine, though, since Zuko wasn't verbose himself.

They had little luck with _finding _the Avatar, though; although easy to track, they always seemed to be one step ahead.

Months passed in that fashion. At least there was little time for introspection.

O-o-O-o-O

Not as far away as Zuko thought, Ursa was picking her way through a much smaller town. Only a few months had passed, but it had recovered from the flood. It was impossible to be in a bad mood; it was just such a lovely day. "You're late. Again."

Ursa ignored Kero and started setting up shop. Somehow, she had ended up starting a small bakery with her one-time rescuer, who was all the more annoying because he could be charming.

"We're out of flour." Now she turned to face him, snatching the money out of his hands. "Hey!"

"Why did you tell me about it if you didn't expect me to go buy some?" Before Kero could protest again, she picked up her skirts and dashed off. She made a face over her shoulder at him and promptly smacked into someone.

"Hey, watch-" began the loudmouth she'd run into. Then the person on the ground said, "_Ursa_?"

Ursa sat up on her knees and actually got a good look at the person she had knocked over. "Smellerbee!" It wasn't a wonder she hadn't recognized the girl; she looked completely different without her armor. Ursa got up, brushed off her dress, and helped Smellerbee to her feet. "What happened to Ba Sing Se?"

Smellerbee looked at the ground, and a voice behind Ursa answered for her. "It wasn't for us."

Despite how rarely she'd heard the voice, she recognized it immediately and turned toward Longshot. She wanted to hug him (while the pangs for her blood son had long since dulled to a quiet need, those for her adopted child were still sharp), but she knew it would only embarrass him. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder. "It's good to see you both again… where's Jet?"

Longshot looked away, and Ursa understood. "Oh, the poor boy…" She was saddened but not surprised; she had always thought Jet would die young. He didn't know when to fight and when to keep his head down.

"Hey! Ursa!" Kero yelled. "Are you going to buy that flour or what? We have customers, you know!"

Ursa responded with a rude suggestion. Longshot looked rather scandalized, and Smellerbee, for a wonder, started to giggle.

O-o-O-o-O

Between buying flour and various customers at her stall, Ursa managed to prod most of the story out of the teens- it had been ages since they left, after all. "So why did you come back here?"

Smellerbee looked at Longshot (she still did most of the talking) and shrugged. "Nowhere better to go, really." She glanced at Ursa, her eyes lingering on her flour-covered apron. "I can't believe you stayed here."

Ursa was rather surprised. "Why not?"

Smellerbee shrugged again. "You always seemed like you were running from something grander than this," she said finally, gesturing at the town. "I always thought some noble would come looking for you and sweep you away." Longshot nodded. His face was turned away so she couldn't see his expression.

Ursa stiffened, but she only echoed Smellerbee's shrug. "I've tried princes. They didn't work for me. Bakers are far more practical." A dumpling went sailing just to the left of her head; Smellerbee caught it, looking like she was about to start giggling again. Ursa wondered if it was just Jet's death that had caused the changes in the girl, or perhaps something more…?

Longshot tried to steal the dumpling, and Smellerbee smacked him. _Perhaps not,_ Ursa thought, struggling to hide a grin.

O-o-O-o-O

Longshot and Smellerbee ended up staying with her; they resisted, but she put her foot down. "There's nothing but dust in those treehouses anymore. If the other children, thought it was fine to stay with me, then surely you're not above it either."

They glanced at each other and rolled their eyes, but it was obviously only for show.

Everything was normal for a few days until Smellerbee came home with tagalongs. Ursa stifled a gasp when she saw the girl's companions; it was the Avatar and his friends. She hadn't gotten to know them, but they were hard to forget.

"We're sorry to impose on you like this," the waterbender- Katara, that was it- said, looking at her hands. "We just need somewhere to hide for a few days. Some of our enemies are after us, and we've been on the run almost constantly. It's not good for-" her eyes flicked to the Avatar for a moment before she finished, "-any of us."

"Pardon me, ma'am," said Sokka, looking at Ursa. "Would that be roasted chickenhog I smell?"

Ursa blinked. "Um, yes, I think so… Longshot-"

She never got the chance to finish her sentence; Sokka had already dropped to his knees in front of her. "Marry me," begged the Water Tribe boy. "It's been so long since I had real meat!"

Ursa, rather flustered and trying not to laugh, was spared responding; the Avatar had spotted dessert and elbowed Sokka aside. "She can't. She's going to marry me! Egg custard!"

Longshot pulled his hat down to hide a grin, and Ursa gave up and started laughing.

O-o-O-o-O

"So who are you running from?" Smellerbee asked, sipping her tea. "The whole world or someone particular?"

The Avatar's friends looked nervously among themselves, as if afraid they would summon their pursuers by talking about them.

"Someones," said Katara finally. "They've all been after us for quite a while."

"And Angry Jerk since the very beginning," said Sokka, sounding almost fond.

"Angry Jerk?" Ursa asked.

The blind girl, Toph, smirked. "Sokka's nickname for Prince Zuko."

She kept talking, but Ursa didn't hear it. It was all she could do to keep from dropping her teacup. "You've had encounters with him?" Her voice sounded false in her own ears, but only Longshot looked intently interested.

It had just been so _long_ since she had heard any news of her son… or Azula, for that matter. She missed them both. And Iroh! She had never thought of her old life with longing, and she knew that dredging up her past was dangerous, especially given the present company, but to know what had become of those she loved… oh, what temptation.

"A lot," said Sokka. "Although he's not as bad as Azula. It's too easy to yank his chain for him to be really effective."

"But his uncle's very nice," Toph added.

"Who are the others?" Ursa asked. She wasn't a good liar, but she seemed to be doing an all right job of feigning indifference so far.

The group exchanged glances- not because of reluctance, this time, but simple uncertainty.

"Well, the pink one's Ty Lee," said Sokka after a moment.

"You would know, wouldn't you, Snoozles," Toph muttered.

"And the crazy girl with the knives… I think her name's Mai," said the Avatar.

"Can't forget the Queen Bitch, of course," said Sokka. "Azula."

Ursa thought she might faint. "Is she… following you, too?"

Sokka glanced at his friends again. When he saw that no one else was going to answer, he shook his head. In a much quieter voice, he said, "She's too busy ruling Ba Sing Se."

Ursa gasped.

"The Fire Nation got Ba Sing Se?" Smellerbee whispered. The Avatar nodded, looking at his hands. "Wow… I hated it there, but… if it's gone, what hope do we have?"

Katara looked at Aang, her eyes hardening. "We have Aang. We nearly didn't, thanks to Azula, though. She almost killed him, and she still won! It's not fair!"

"Little is," said Longshot.

"Yes," Katara admitted, casting down her gaze for a moment. "But _we_ would have won if it weren't for her! She's the reason Zuko turned against us, and he's the reason we lost!"

"Katara, calm down," Aang said quietly. "What's done is done. Zuko's not going to change." He said this with resigned weariness- an optimist who has finally given up, on that subject at least.

"So Zuko-" Ursa had to focus to not call him her son, "-turned the battle on his decision?" Vaguely, she remembered Azula recounting dozens of such occasions, where the actions of a single warrior led to a Fire Nation victory. She never thought she'd think of her son as a statistic.

Katara nodded, gritting her teeth. Clearly, it was all she could do to keep from yelling something else. "We're on the run from him again now, and we've hardly had anywhere to take a break. Wherever we go, they find us. We shouldn't even stay long here."

Ursa shook her head. "You can stay as long as you need. There are ways out of here if you need to leave in a hurry." She stood up, smiling thinly. "If you'll all excuse me…" She didn't wait for permission, just walked outside.

She wasn't quite sure what she needed- air? to cry? time to think? She had no idea. It was all too overwhelming- five-odd years with no news from home (or want of it, so she'd thought) and then being swamped with it, to learn that everything you'd feared had come true.

No matter how much she'd loved Zuko, she'd always known that he was easily influenced. He actually cared about honor and formality and all the other old customs that most of his family ignored. The problem was that he thought that honor came from others, not from within himself.

And Azula… She was surprised to feel pride in her daughter. Although this basically meant that the Fire Nation had finally captured the Earth Kingdom, and that her chances of being found were much greater, she had always known her daughter would settle for nothing less than legend status… even as the villainess.

Longshot peered out of the house, eyeing her with stifled concern.

"I'm all right," she said, wiping at the film of tears in her eyes. "Just a little…overwhelmed, I suppose." She smiled, although it was rather distracted.

To her surprise, Longshot walked over to her (it still surprised her that he was almost her height) and put his hand on her shoulder. "I know you miss your son, but let's hope we don't run into him."

Ursa laughed. "I'm afraid he'd be fair disappointed in me. Imagine choosing love over power!" She gave in and hugged the boy, and he didn't resist.

Later, while burying her, Longshot would be glad of that.

O-o-O-o-O

The Avatar was found out, and unlike sane people, Ty Lee, Mai, and Zuko couldn't wait until morning to act on their discovery.

Ursa woke in the night to the sound of screams. She glanced around the room, disoriented, and quickly went to the main room of her house.

Sokka was leaning against the door. "They've found us," he hissed. "They're right down the street."

"And they're burning people in their homes!" Aang replied. His voice, although heated, was also a whisper, and the only light in the room was a strand of moonlight through the windows.

"We can't face them," Katara replied.

"I say we do it," said Toph. "Who's gonna stop us?"

"Ty Lee, for one thing! Do you want to lose your earthsight?"

"Like she could get that close to me."

"Either way, it's not a good idea to just barge out onto the street," Sokka said. He glanced around the room and spotted Ursa. "Ma'am-"

"It's Ursa, and follow me." Ursa grabbed her cloak off the chair (it was the same one she had fled the palace in all those years ago, although much the worse for wear- funny how such things stay with you) and ran back into her bedroom, feeling the floorboards. She came across a trapdoor. "This leads into the sewers."

"Why is it _always_ the sewers?" Sokka muttered. Everyone ignored him.

"I'll go first," said Aang. "Just in case." One by one, all of them disappeared down the hole. Toph ended up leading the way; even though she was blind, she was able to find her way much better than any of the others.

"I still say we should fight them," she hissed.

"We will, once we're out of the city," said Katara. "These people shouldn't have to get hurt just because one of them was nice enough to help us." There was little conversation for a while; everyone was more focused on staying close to the wall. It was hard to see where the floor ended and sludge began in the darkness.

"These don't go all the way out of the city, do they?" said Toph, pausing underneath a manhole.

"Not that I know of," Ursa replied. "But if we get to the edge, we can go to the treehouses. They're still untouched."

"Fancy that," Smellerbee muttered. "We're finally going home."

O-o-O-o-O

Toph said there was no one there when they found their way to the edge of the city. The problem with her earthsight was that it could only see people on the ground. As soon as they all emerged, three kunai whizzed over their heads.

Longshot drew and fired, but Mai had already retreated to the other side of the rooftop. "We have to get out of here."

Smellerbee was looking at the smoke rising from the center of town. "But they're burning it! We should do something!"

"We have bigger matters right now," Longshot replied, nocking another arrow.

Smellerbee's hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger, but she said nothing more.

A whirl of pink flipped over the rooftop; Katara sent a water whip at Ty Lee, but she was already gone, spinning like a top and landing squarely on the ground. Longshot fired where she fell, but she just giggled and dodged it. "Miss me?" she asked, dashing at Sokka. Toph kicked the ground, and Ty Lee flew up on a pillar of rock. "You're no fun!"

_She certainly hasn't changed,_ Ursa thought.

Smellerbee noticed her. "Ursa, you should get out of here," she whispered. Ursa just plucked one of the daggers out of Smellerbee's hands (she knew the girl had at least six more on her). Smellerbee looked torn, but then Mai reappeared, sliding down the side of the building. Aang shot an airblast at her, but Mai drew a broad, thin blade and used it to slice right down the center of it, unfazed.

"Hey, angst boy! Get over here!" Mai yelled, landing. A blast of fire over the rooftop answered her, setting the thatch alight.

Then a firebender came around the side of the building. At least the last time Ursa saw her son, he looked impressive, backlit by his own fireblast in dark red robes. The only thing that marred him was the giant scar over one eye. Ursa wondered briefly where he got it before a stiletto nearly sliced her ear off, and she remembered she was in the middle of a fight. (1)

Katara put the fire out and turned her efforts to Zuko; she held him off, but he was far better than the struggling child Ursa remembered. His movements with the flame were far more impressive; he was no master, but now it was a "not yet" instead of a "never."

Toph, Aang, and Sokka were fighting Ty Lee, so the Freedom Fighters focused on Mai. She and Smellerbee were locked in a nasty bout of hand-to-hand, and Longshot was waiting for them to separate enough so he could fire. Smellerbee was holding her own; Ursa wasn't worried about her. It was only Katara who seemed to be struggling; although the girl was obviously a master and more skilled than Zuko, waterbending was less aggressive than firebending, so she was still getting beaten back.

_Prove your loyalties,_ Ursa thought, biting her lip. She wished she could have a moment to really think about it, but no such luck; fights never allowed for such things. She flipped the dagger in her hand so she was holding it by the dull part near the hilt (not without a sense of déjà vu) and cleared the distance between her and her son.

_Perhaps this'll knock some sense into him,_ she thought, _and make him realize how nice it is to live peacefully._ Ursa didn't know how long Iroh had been trying to teach him just that.

O-o-O-o-O

Zuko didn't see his mother; all he knew that there was someone coming at him in a battle that he couldn't afford to lose. He was too evenly matched with the waterbender to risk any distractions, so he drew in a deep breath and sank into a deeper stance. He threw out his arms and sent two blasts of flame, one at the waterbender and one behind him. He heard a scream and made himself ignore it; the night was full of them anyway.

Zuko never learned that he had become a matricide. He and his companions retreated quickly after that; they were obviously losing, and they could always strike again later now that the Avatar's trail would be fresh.

He spared no second glance at the woman in the cloak, and perhaps it was all for the best. Still, that scream lingered on the edges of his nightmares for several weeks afterward. (2)

O-o-O-o-O

The moment Zuko fled, Katara rushed to Ursa's side, but it was too late. Longshot was already there, cradling his head in his hands. "That's twice I haven't been able to save someone for you," she whispered, covering Ursa's face with her cloak.

"Not your fault," the boy whispered thickly. "Just get out of here before they regroup."

Katara didn't waste time on further words; she nodded, and the Avatar's friends melted out of the city and out of this story.

Smellerbee stood at his side for a moment or two before wrapping her arms around him. Longshot stiffened, but she whispered, "Enough of that," and he broke. She had cried in his arms a thousand times, and now she was returning the favor.

They buried Ursa at the foot of the largest tree in the forest, carving her name in the bark with the dagger she'd taken from Smellerbee. "Ursa," the characters read. "Mother to many and missed by all."

After laying her dagger atop the mound, Smellerbee looked at Longshot, who hadn't said a word after getting Katara to leave. Almost shyly, she took his hand and squeezed it. "We've got nothing more pressing to attend to now," she murmured.

He looked up, nodded, and pulled her into his arms.

They stood there a long time, but eventually they left.

O-o-O-o-O

Zuko had several more encounters with the Avatar, but one day his group came across a giant and impossibly fleet Fire Nation machine. Zuko pulled his lizard to a halt as someone emerged from it. Ty Lee spotted her first. "Azula!" She and Mai dismounted to bow, but Zuko stayed on his lizard as Azula approached; he wasn't the only one who could pull that trick, and he_ was_ the older one.

He slipped off the saddle when she had finished greeting Mai and Ty Lee, crossing his arms. And then Azula did something Zuko would have taken a million to one odds against: she hugged him. "It's time to come back to Ba Sing Se, brother," she said upon releasing him (in the background, he could see that the two other girls looked just as surprised as he felt). "And eventually you'll get to come home. I'll see to it. After all, if you can't trust family…" Zuko drew back; he remembered that line. Azula's smile was thin and sharp, a viper's grin.

Zuko was actually rather relieved; he had begun to wonder if someone had brainwashed her.

O-o-O-o-O

On the ride back to Ba Sing Se, Azula, pacing the room (another Azula-maxim: always remind them that you have much better things you could be doing with your time), tapped her lips with a finger. "I believe you will be good at this, Zuko. You have lived among these people for a long while now- you know their ways. You can present yourself as sympathetic, ease them into a new age of Fire Nation rule, all the while maintaining a tight grip over them. An iron fist in a velvet glove, you see?" She paused to look at him, and he nodded. Azula's metaphor, although unoriginal, was vivid.

Azula sat down and crossed her legs in her usual fashion. "However, you must tread carefully with the Dai Li. Any sign of weakness, and they will strike. As for Long Feng- cut off a wolfbat's head…" She glanced meaningfully at Zuko before continuing. "I know you have been long away from the graces of court, brother, so I am leaving Mai with you, to advise you."

Zuko's eyes widened; visions of a certain fountain incident flashed through his head.

Azula flapped her hands as if to banish the thought of any conniving on her part. "She will be valuable to you, Zuko. If Ty Lee knew anything about propriety, I'd put _her_ with you, but…" She shrugged. "You're stuck with Mai. Besides, she's an excellent bodyguard. You certainly won't have the organized resistance of New Ozai, but we don't want to be taking chances with our heir, now do we?"

Zuko turned away, wishing there was a window to look out of. He settled for inspecting a tapestry on the wall. "Do you honestly think Father will reinstate me?" He wanted to believe her, but after last time…

Azula surprised him for the second time in less than an hour. She didn't say anything for a long moment, and when she did, her words weren't smooth and primed; Azula was speaking honestly. At least, as far as Zuko could tell. "I can't say for sure. Father is… unpredictable." She put a hand on his chin and made him look her in the eye. "But know this, Zuko: I will do all I can. That's what family's for, isn't it?"

Family again. That word had always been a cue for him to stop listening to her, but he couldn't tell now. He managed not to recoil when she smiled. "Thank you, Azula."

O-o-O-o-O

Smellerbee and Longshot didn't reach Ba Sing Se nearly as quickly as Zuko, although they departed at nearly the same time. They didn't have the benefits of a tank, for one thing, and they were taking their time purposely; going back to the impenetrable city meant stirring up far more memories than just those of Jet.

But they got there eventually and were surprised to see that little had changed. They had expected to try and find their own way across the lakes before the city, but the ferry was still there, and it was no longer secretive and paranoid. Apparently, the Fire Nation was far more lax about immigration, and why not? It wasn't their country, after all.

Anyway, they didn't look that suspicious; a geisha and a Yu Yan archer, even traveling together, were worth only the most cursory of second glances.

"Maybe this isn't wise," Longshot murmured, leaning against the edge of the ship and staring down into the dark water. Last time, the breeze hadn't ruffled his hair because he'd been wearing a hat; now it was because of the rigid topknot he was wearing it in. Smellerbee had smirked when she saw it and asked if becoming a Yu Yan required a vow of celibacy. Longshot hadn't gotten it. He'd told her of his past long ago; she had always been the only Freedom Fighter he'd felt comfortable confiding in. Her rage, after all, was only directed toward the world in general. Smellerbee, unlike Jet, could balance her prejudices with reason. Usually.

"We could say that about everything we've ever done," Smellerbee replied, just as quietly. He studied her out of the corner of his eye; she'd hit him if she saw him staring openly, but she just looked so different in her geisha outfit.

"_What_?" she demanded, glaring at him. A smack was imminent- he could see her blushing under the ricepaint.

He took a chance and replied, "You look lovely."

Her eyes narrowed, and he waited for the slap. It never came. Smellerbee just sighed and turned her face to the sea.

Jet wouldn't have recognized her then, and not just because of the fancy kimono and carefully coiffed hair. This was not the knife-wielding wild girl who tagged along behind the boys until she became indispensable or even the half-hysterical _maiko_ who had refused to speak.

Smellerbee was a young woman now, quiet and sad and strong, looking for closure with her past so she could accept the future. (3)

_She needs this, _Longshot thought. _And _I _need this. We need an end to everything._

Smellerbee looked at him, her eyes still filled with a knowledge they shouldn't have gained for years. They looked too much like his own eyes for comfort. Longshot put his arm around her waist, and, amazingly, she leaned against him.

O-o-O-o-O

Ruling Ba Sing Se was surprisingly easy, Zuko discovered. The people were scared and disoriented; all Zuko had to do was act confident and kind, which he managed somehow. About two-thirds of the actual ruling was just public appearances, and the rest was endless paperwork.

But he liked it; he was born to it. This was what he was designed to do, what he had been raised for. It was like breathing. He never once allowed himself to think the words _Fire Lord, _though; that was too much temptation.

O-o-O-o-O

Ba Sing Se itself hadn't changed much either, if you could ignore the soldiers and the scorch marks. "I hate it here," Smellerbee whispered, hiding her face in his shoulder. "So much." One arm was around him, and the other was clutching a knife so hard her fingers turned white. Longshot took it from her so she wouldn't hurt herself and twined his fingers with hers so she wouldn't try to take it back.

Accessing the palace proved to be surprisingly easy. Longshot blended in instantly; there were already Yu Yan there, and to an outsider, one archer behind the facepaint was just the same as any other. Geisha were as common as dirt in Ba Sing Se, and while it was mildly strange for a Yu Yan to employ one, it wasn't that interesting. People had more pressing things to attend to; there was a war going on, after all.

And besides, Smellerbee and Longshot had spent the better parts of their lives practicing the art of being uninteresting; only particularly observant people really noticed them to begin with, and particularly observant people were almost as rare as airbenders.

Before they separated, Smellerbee pulled Longshot into an empty room, giving him her favorite dagger. "For luck," she whispered.

Longshot raised his eyebrows and fiddled with his quiver meaningfully.

"I know you have your own weapons, but I want you to take it." When he didn't respond, she swiftly pressed her mouth to his and the knife into his hands. "Take it," she repeated, her lips a breath away from his own. "I'm not going to be there to back you up. I need to know that you'll come back to me." She was trying to sound fierce, like she always did, but her voice betrayed her, trembling a little.

"Always," he replied, tucking the knife into his belt.

She kissed him again, softer this time, and repaired her lip paint. Then she turned to leave, but she looked at him from the doorway for a long moment before moving on.

He brushed his fingers across his lips before picking up his bow (hating how natural it felt in his hands, even after all these years).

O-o-O-o-O

Prince Zuko was alone in his chambers reviewing reports. The Dai Li seemed to keep records of everything they did, no matter how trivial, and he had to look over them to see where to best apply their efforts. It made for very boring reading most of the time.

He had no guard outside his door; that would have been an insult, suggesting that he couldn't defend himself. Besides, Mai had the chamber next to his. Although she still spoke to him as rarely as possible, Azula had been right in saying she would be valuable to him. Her advice was useful, and she had stopped three assassination attempts that week alone.

But Mai was asleep and Zuko was deep in thought when Longshot came. He picked the lock with ease; it was imposing, but really rather cheap. The prince was a firebender, so the lock was really only a formality, the equivalent of a "keep out" sign. The door was heavy and not well-oiled, though, and a terrible creak broke the silence.

Almost as fast as the sound, Longshot drew and fired, pinning the prince to his desk. "Who's there?" Zuko cried, turning around and trying in vain to free his arm. Longshot fired again, and Zuko blasted it out of the air. "Who are you?"

Longshot said nothing.

Zuko ripped his sleeve free of the arrow; it had been preventing him from getting into a proper stance. Now he dropped into one and eyed his opponent warily.

Longshot drew and nocked an arrow, but he did nothing for a few moments. The two men, who could have been brothers in a different life, faced each other across the room, both prepared to strike if the other made a move.

"Who are you?" Zuko repeated, sick of the silence. The Yu Yan didn't often speak, but that didn't mean they couldn't, and from previous experience, Zuko knew that assassins loved nothing more than to explain their reasons for killing someone.

Instead of answering his question, Longshot asked him one. "Do you even know you did it? Did you know who she was?"

Zuko frowned. "Who?"

Longshot fired. Zuko punched the air, and the arrow burst into flame. Longshot was moving, though; he ducked under the fireblast and swept Zuko's legs out from under him. He pressed his knife to Zuko's carotid artery, his eyes narrowing. "You didn't know, but that's no excuse." Before Zuko could complete his last firebending move, Longshot slit his throat and jumped away from the blood. "And they called _me_ a traitor."

That was the last thing Zuko heard.

O-o-O-o-O

When Prince Zuko was found, fingers immediately went to Mai. She had the opportunity, after all, and it was clearly a knife wound. The motive? Probably a lover's spat. She was imprisoned; the eventual decision was that they would leave her punishment to Princess Azula. That was the only time any of the Dai Li saw her show fear.

There was a mild uproar in the Dai Li themselves; Long Feng had been found dead in his chambers, just like Zuko. He had been stabbed, though; several times, by the looks of things. Everyone shrugged, once again putting the blame on Mai. She was a convenient scapegoat.

No one ever thought to blame any newcomers to the palace for a simple reason: there weren't any. If there had been an extra entertainer or archer there that day, no one noticed.

O-o-O-o-O

Doubtless, you wonder what happened after that. Smellerbee and Longshot's fate, the Avatar's, perhaps even Mai's.

But this is not a story concerned with _afters_; if I were a stricter storyteller, it would have ended with the death of our heroine. But death isn't the end of anything, especially not stories, and I felt you should know that Ursa was well missed. You may judge the Freedom Fighters and Zuko as you wish; you may assign good and evil as you see fit. Personally, I see no heroes or villains, only a few lost children who never really learned to deal with loss.

Anyway, you'll have to be satisfied with knowing that eventually things righted themselves, and that somewhere, a mother was reunited with her son.

Besides, _after_ is so often associated with "happily ever after", and this is no fairy tale.

(Good Lord, that was long-winded. It took me a while because I rewrote the beginning several times; it wasn't right. Review! Especially if you hate me for this.)

(1) Ursa wouldn't know; she left ages before then. Also, she wouldn't know that Iroh hadn't sided with Azula.

(2) Before you flame me: A) he didn't know it was Ursa, B) he didn't know he killed her, and C) he was in the middle of a fight. Consider that.

(3) In case this wasn't outlined clearly enough: this is what they were taught. Always avenge your friends. Two killings are nothing compared to a city.


End file.
